


Runnin' with the Devil

by SassyStarboard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21723370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: Sunday afternoons are reserved for track meets. Castiel Novak’s heart is reserved for Dean Winchester.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 32





	Runnin' with the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t watched in a while or seen anything past the beginning of season 12, so this might seem a little dated/OOC. Throwback to happier times? I’m sorry Lisa kind of sucks here, I actually do sort of like her but I couldn’t think of anyone else that could fit her role. And Cas probably has too much of a sense of humor. Also I’ve never ever been to a track meet before. I’m considering making this a series though, so let me know if you want the rest of it! Comments are always welcome. Enjoy!

Sunday afternoons were reserved for track meets. Today, Sam was number eight. 

It was the last day of the district tournament—the race that would determine whether Truman High would qualify for regionals—and the bleachers around the outdoor track were packed with Truman students. The tournament was being held at a competing high school almost an hour away, but _Truman students always show their school spirit_! It was obnoxiously peppy.

Fairfax High, the host school, was hideously out in the middle of nowhere. Even Dean—with his self-described impeccable sense of direction—had taken a wrong turn or two, which was why it was no surprise to him at all that Cas was late. Hell if he didn’t like the guy—Cas had been his best friend for years—but if anyone had the ability to get lost in a cardboard box, it was Cas. Dean snorted at the thought and walked up the steps, sitting down at the top of the bleachers. 

Dean’s eyes searched the field until he spotted his little brother. Sam and the other runners in his event were all stretching out on the sidelines, getting ready while the racers in the event before them finished out their final laps. The meet had been set up on a track encircling the school's football field, where the stadium seating was able to provide plenty of seats for spectators as well as cool shade for the couples making out under the crowded bleachers.

Dean stood up and wolf-whistled. Sam’s head snapped up. His eyes brightened and he smiled, waving at Dean. Dean waved back, returning the grin, then sat back down. He’d dropped Sam off earlier this afternoon and had spent the last two hours loitering in a strip mall a few blocks over, flirting with cute cashiers to take his mind off Lisa.

 _Lisa_.

Dean sighed, then leaned back against the chain-link fence lining the top of the bleachers, watching as Sam and his competitors lined up at the start of the track. He barely listened to the announcer rattle off the names and numbers of the racers, completely zeroed in on Sam. Sam looked nervous, but focused. Sam looked ready to win. 

The starting pistol fired and the runners sped into action. Dean watched intently as Sam immediately raced past a boy tagged as number eleven, settling into third place. Dean smiled proudly, sitting up a little straighter. It was only the start of the race and Sammy was crushing it. He’d win, he always would. Their Dad never came—even though he bragged about how Sam had never lost a race to his hunting buddies—but Dean always did. Sammy needed someone to count on. Usually Cas and Lisa came too, but today Dean wasn’t even sure if _Cas_ was gonna make it.

He did. A minute later, Cas found his way to the right side of the bleachers, awkwardly moving through several disgruntled spectators to be next to his best friend. Dean glanced at him as he carefully folded his trench coat and laid it down on the bleachers. How anyone in high school could dress like an account and make it work for them was beyond Dean, but somehow Cas managed. It was almost too hot for a trench coat, but it was definitely too hot for Dean’s leather jacket so Dean wasn’t in a position to be pointing fingers. 

Cas sat down and squinted at the racers, looking for Sam and praying he hadn’t missed the event entirely. Cas had barely managed to get here and it'd be a wonder if he found his way back. He’d mistakenly chosen to rely on his phone for directions and the service out here was abysmal—one of the many reasons Cas had taken so many wrong turns. _Recalculating_ . _Recalculating. Recalculating._

"Sorry I'm late." He muttered, shoving his phone into the pocket of his khakis. "I got lost on the way here. What number is Sam?"

"Eight. And nah, you're cool." Dean shook his head, eyes on the track. "They just started." Cas raised an eyebrow, bringing his wrist up to check his watch. 

"I was led to believe this tournament started at three o'clock. It is now past three thirty." He said.

"Yeah, that's just when they start _all_ the eighth graders. The first events that go off are shorter, like sprints. Sammy's runnin' the 3200." Dean answered. Cas nodded, then noticed Dean hadn't brought anyone else with him. He frowned, confused.

"Where's Lisa?” He asked carefully. Won't she be joining us?" 

Deans face darkened, He cringed internally, remembering the argument he’d had with Lisa—which hadn’t truly been an argument as much as it had been her shouting at him, furiously presenting an endless list of evidence that Dean was a horrible boyfriend and had never even really liked her in the first place. Which wasn’t true. Dean hadn’t exactly thought of her as his _girlfriend_ , but he _had_ liked her. He’d liked her _enough_ , anyway. 

"No, she, uh...we broke up on Friday." Dean said stiffly. He shifted slightly to put more space between him and Cas, suddenly weirded out by how close they were. Cas missed the movement but turned away from the track when he heard Dean’s sullen response. His frown returned. A glance at Dean’s expression told him their breakup hadn’t ended on good terms.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Cas said, hoping his face wasn’t announcing his emotions. His unwanted, most-definitely-should-not-exist emotions. 

Cas, in fact, was not at all sorry to hear that Dean had broken up with Lisa. He’d seen it coming for quite a while and—if he was being honest—he was sure not even Dean could have truly thought he and Lisa were a good fit together. Lisa had been...unappealing, to say the least. Cas could think of a number of people who would be far better for Dean, better than Lisa could have ever hoped to be, himself included. But he didn't say that.

Dean couldn’t know. If Dean found out that Cas had a crush on him—or, more accurately, that Cas had been in love with him for roughly seven out of the twelve years they’d been best friends—they wouldn’t be friends anymore. Dean would leave, angry and hurt. And Cas would be alone because Dean was Cas’ only friend that...well, Dean was his only friend. He supposed he was friends with Sam too, but it was a vastly different relationship. One that, in this scenario, didn’t make any difference because if Cas lost Dean, he would lose Sam too. It was without question.

He couldn’t tell Dean. Even the thought of it was far too nerve wracking to consider. No matter what happened, Cas would be crushed. He had never met anyone that understood him the way Dean did, that made him laugh and cry and love the way Dean did. He couldn’t lose that. No matter what he was feeling. So he would keep ignoring it. Their friendship was more important to Cas than his personal feelings anyway. Besides, something told him being openly gay in southern Indiana was a bad idea.

“Dude, look.” Dean elbowed him in the ribs. Cas blinked, pulling himself out of his grim musings and turning his attention back to the track.

A boy labeled number six who looked to be solidly towards the back of the pack had practically bowled over another competitor to push past him. Which was illegal. Runners weren’t allowed to touch other runners, no one's allowed to touch them, and it was insane that he hadn't been disqualified on the spot. It was as if the refs were complete idiots. 

Even more unbelievable was that the boy had made it onto the track team in the first place.

"Geez, that kid could lay off the twinkies." Dean muttered. "Little bastard's fat enough to sell shade." Cas pursed his lips, watching as the runners once again pulled around the edge of the track to pass the bleachers. When he turned back, Dean was finally bending to the heat and had started stripping off his leather jacket. Cas stopped himself before he could do something stupid—like start staring—and studiously turned all of his attention back to the runners.

“It...it is possible he tripped, Dean. I’m sure he didn’t mean to come into contact with that other runner.” Cas managed. He heard the clink of the zippers on Dean’s jacket hitting the metal bleachers as it was set it down next to them, then he heard Dean scoff.

“Are you kidding? Dude looks like the freaking Michelin tire man. That was some hit and run shit.”

“Dean, he—“

Cas was cut off by a loud, obnoxious voice from their left shouting, chanting down at the track. 

"Crowley! Crowley! Crowley!" 

The two looked over to see a blonde boy about their age, enthusiastically cheering on the runner who had practically run someone over. 

"That's it! Take 'em down! Take ‘em down!" 

When he sat back down in his seat, Cas got a better look at him. The blonde boy had his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jacket, a wool letterman that made Cas think he must be dying in such hot weather. That, or he was an arrogant jock that hadn't taken the jacket off since his freshman year five years ago. Recognizing his face, Cas determined it was the latter.

"Great." Dean muttered. "When that fat bastard loses we'll have to listen to Lucifer bitch about it on Monday.”

Lucifer had failed junior year and frankly was an all around terrible human being. Last year, Cas had been forced to experience the displeasure of tutoring Lucifer every Thursday for two months leading up to the boys' history final and all the while, the jock had insulted him and repeatedly disrespected Cas' efforts to help the boy earn a passing mark. Efforts that--against all odds--had been successful, but efforts that Cas deeply regretted. 

Thanks to him, Lucifer had passed the class with a C-, which unfortunately had allowed him to continue on to his final year of high school. Unfortunately meaning it once again placed him in the same grade as Cas and Dean. All three boys were now seniors, though Lucifer was a year older and—unlike Cas and Dean—had no future academic prospects in sight. At least, not unless Notre Dame decided the quality they most desired in their admissions candidates was someone who held the school’s all-time record for lowest SAT score.

“So...Lisa.” Cas managed. Dean hesitated, then he gave Cas a flashy smile and and an easy shrug. Dean was deflecting. Cas gave him a pointed look. Dean sighed.

"It's cool. I like to fly solo, you know." Dean gave another sideways glance at Cas. "We probably would've had ugly little gremlins for kids anyways."

Cas felt utterly nauseous at the thought of Dean marrying Lisa or having children with her and quickly forced himself to say the first thing he thought of to take his mind away from the cursed image.

"That is unlikely. Both of you are quite attractive." Cas responded, then mentally hit himself for admitting he found Dean attractive. Dean, thank goodness, didn't seem to have noticed. Or at least, he hadn't given any indication of it. Cas breathed an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Dean shrugged. 

"Nah, I've seen her parents. Sure, she's hot, but I heard ugliness skips a generation. I'm not risking that crap." Dean reached over the bleachers and inside the pocket of his leather jacket. 

"My kids are gonna be freakin' adorable." He pulled out a beer, opening it with his car keys before taking a sip. Cas frowned.

"You're not supposed to drink on school property." He informed him, having long since given up on reminding Dean of the legal drinking age. Dean winked at his friend.

"You won't tell, will you Cas?" He grinned. Cas sighed, pretending to think it over. 

"No, I suppose not." He resigned. Dean snorted. Cas stared out at the track.

Sam had two laps left and was solidly in second place. As he had done every time, Dean cheered when Sam passed their section of the bleachers, likely to the embarrassment of Sam. This, Cas reasoned, was what motivated Dean to do so. Apart from supporting his little brother, of course. 

Dean cleared his throat, tucking the beer carefully into his jacket as one of the coaches walked past. When the coast was clear, he pulled it back out.

"Don't want to get kicked out before Sammy wins." He grinned. Dean looked over at Cas, thoughtful. Cas turned. Dean’s bright green eyes seemed to look right at him and straight through him at the same time. _Mesmerizing_. Cas could’ve stared into them forever. 

Then someone nearby loudly opened a bag of chips, breaking their unofficial staring contest. Cas awkwardly took a sip from his water. Finally, Dean spoke.

"We'd make cute kids, wouldn't we Cas?" He said matter of factly. Cas choked, coughing up his water. Dean went on. "You know, if guys could...if that was a thing. They wouldn't be gremlins, would they?"

 _Not with your eyes, they wouldn't,_ Cas thought. He swallowed hard, clearing his throat.

"Of course not." He replied. "I'm sufficiently attractive enough that my appearance would balance out the abnormally large ears they'd undoubtedly receive from you."

Dean scoffed in mock offense, lightly elbowing Cas in the ribs. "Harsh, Casanova."

"Of course, we could always ask Lucifer’s mother for advice." Cas offered. Dean made a face.

"Whatdaya mean?" He asked. Cas glanced at him.

"You have seen Lucifer and his brother Crowley, yes?" He responded. "It's clear by now their mother must know which sexual positions produce the ugliest children. I'm sure she'll happily tell us what to avoid."

Dean choked on his beer, laughing hard enough for both of them. Cas chuckled at his own joke. 

They turned back to the track. The race was almost over. Runners who had been losing their steam could now see the end in sight and their energy was returning with full force. Every one of them was giving the last stretch of the race everything they had and everyone had someone right next to them pushing them to go faster; even Crowley, though Cas suspected he was so close to the others because he was an entire lap behind.

Suddenly, Sam passed number 13 and surged forwards into first place. Dean shot up, cheering loudly and absolutely beaming at his brother. Cas stood up beside him. With only a few seconds left, Sam held onto his lead as he crossed the finish line. The long blare of an air horn signaled the end of the race. Sam had won. Dean punched the air.

"Go Sammy!" Dean yelled, standing tall in the bleachers and clapping wildly. "Yes! Winchester for the win!" 

Cas smiled. Having finished his beer, Dean tucked the empty can back into his pocket. The two made their way down the bleachers, looking to congratulate Sam on his victory. Dean grinned, throwing an arm around Cas' shoulder.

The two reached the bottom of the steps and walked towards Sam. Cas relaxed, growing used to the feeling of Dean’s arm around him. Dean smiled warmly at him. He wanted this, Cas decided. He'd known for years, of course, but now he was determined. Lisa was gone, and if Cas got it together in time there wouldn’t be another girl. He smiled. Not today, but eventually. Dean Winchester would be his.

* * *

Dean searched for his brother, tightening his arm around Cas as he led him through the crowd. 

He hadn't told Cas the real reason Lisa had broken up with him. Because after what felt like hours of arguing, Dean had realized she was right. He was being unfair to her. She should be with someone who cared for her the way she had tried to care for him. Dean liked someone else. Dean was in _love_ with someone else.

Somehow, admitting that she was right had only made it worse. Lisa had frozen in shock. Then, once she recovered, had immediately started calling him names and had dumped him on the spot, insisting she'd be the one to break up with him, not the other way around. 

Lisa didn’t want to be associated with him anymore.

It was over.

To clear his head, Dean turned to watch Cas scan the crowd, his bright blue eyes shining and searching. Dean smiled. 

Not today, but eventually. Castiel Novak would be his.


End file.
